


Bucky and His Goats

by 0Alexias0



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky With Kids, Bucky with dogs, Bucky with goats, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-12 23:59:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0Alexias0/pseuds/0Alexias0
Summary: The thrilling life of Bucky Barnes as a farmer in Wakanda, trying to work over his past and learning to heal from his years as the Winter Soldier.Oh and he also takes care of goats.[Set between the end of Civil War and the start of Infinity War]





	Bucky and His Goats

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to picture what Bucky's hut looks like, you can see it from [Black Panther's end credit scene](https://youtu.be/gY8ibA_uOHI). The goat field came from the brief scene in Infinity War. 
> 
> Also just a heads up, there are some scenes that contain nightmares and PTSD symptoms.

When Bucky slowly woke, it was to the sound of birds chirping and giggles. He opened his eyes and found three more pairs, staring back at him. Two boys and a girl, not any older than ten. They had their faces painted, and when he shifted they ran outside laughing.

Bucky slowly raised himself up. He was on a simple but comfortable mattress, inside a cozy looking traditional hut. He looked around the place – a horn decoration hung on the wall, kettle and pots, a window, and what he presumed to be dried cow skin.

He sat up to rub his eyes, and yet only his right hand came up. He looked to his side and, yep, no hand there. Right. Siberia and all that. He remembered now.

He was taken out of cryostasis just yesterday. He was still fuzzy back then, probably high from all the medicine, but he remembered changing into some clothes and taken to a village area far from the lab. He stretched his hand and yawned.

When he walked out the hut, he saw that he was in a small village settlement. A small clearing between wide grassy plain and a jungle. People from the village were going around their business. A small peaceful lake reflected the morning sky. He saw Wakanda’s princess, Shuri, with the kids from before surrounding her and giggling. When she saw him, she waved away the three children. They ran back to the main area of the village with words Bucky couldn’t understand.

“Good morning, Sergeant Barnes,” she greeted when he came to her. She was wearing a fancy but casual looking dress, and her long braided hair on a beautiful hairdo. She was young, but he saw the immense amount of intelligence behind those eyes.

“Bucky,” he replied.

Shuri nodded. “How are you feeling?”

“Good.” He felt proud saying that. Because he felt genuinely good, and healthy. And he hasn’t felt that way in a while. The sun felt warm against his skin and the air fresh in his lungs. For once he actually felt safe, and allowed himself to let his guard down. He wasn’t in a state of constant alert anymore, like a massive weight has been taken off his shoulders. He’s free from HYDRA’s brain washing. He’s feeling good.

“Thank you.”

Shuri smiled at him. “Come,” she said, walking away, “there’s much for you to learn.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It had taken the Wakandan Royal Scientist Team and Shuri six months.

“So he is ready to be taken out of cryo?” asked T’challa, draped in his usual black robes.

“Yes, my king.” The doctor nodded. “We’ve wiped off the HYDRA programming from his mind. He won't be going on another brainwashed killing spree anytime soon.”

“That's great.”

“Although, the process is not finished, not yet. Sergeant Barnes still has some mild traumatic symptoms to heal from. Trauma from when and before he was the Winter Soldier. Which is why we at the Royal Science department suggest having him live in a relatively peaceful environment, such as the country side, as a form of therapy.”

“A peaceful enviroment?” The king quirked an interested eyebrow. “I see...and this is the best for him?”

The doctor nodded again. “It would help ease his mental state,” he said. “While our technology has erased HYDRA's programming, letting him live a more simple life surrounded by nature can help stabilize him, if given enough time. Plus, I suggest somewhere near the Border Tribe. Perhaps we can set up a personal settlement for him on one of the villages, and have him stay there for a certain extension of time.”

“If we’re going to do that, we might as well give him some goats to heard,” Okoye suggested in a joking manner.

The doctor's eyes lit up. “That's a good idea. Managing a small farm can give him daily activities that are challenging enough to keep occupied both mentally and physically, but still maintains a peaceful lifestyle…That is, do you approve of this, my king?”

T'challa and Okoye exchanged looks. The king shrugged. “Well get that man some goats, then.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Princess Shuri led him across a roaring field of golden grass, and the wind brushed through his hair. He looked around the view of Wakanda in awe. The trees, the clear sky, and the mountains in the distance. He heard the sounds of exotic birds, antelopes, and other life. It felt wild, yet warm at the same time.

“Here ya go!” Shuri exclaimed excitedly, presenting it with her hand for extra measure.

Bucky cocked his head to the side, confused. “And what is this, exactly?”

In front of him was a pen made of wooden fences, just at the end of the field. It was wide, with wooden fences all around it. On its very back was a mini hut made of dark planks with dried grass as its roof and filled with hay, containing two troughs. But that isn’t his main concern.

There were goats. Five, in total. “Baa,” said one of them.

“It’s your new farm,” Shuri implied, clearly waiting for his reaction.

“A…farm. For me. Can I ask why?”

“Well, we just thought it’d be good for you. To live in a village, take care of a farm, breathe in some fresh air. Take it as a vacation of some kind.”

Bucky stared at the pen, his hut, and the goats. He glanced at Shuri.

“This is therapy for my PTSD, isn’t it?”

The princess shifted on her feet. “Well…If you’d put it blandly, yes.”

There was a moment of silence between the two, before Bucky crouched down and lightly petted one of the goats. Surprisingly, it stayed calm, and Shuri was impressed.

“Yeah, I probably really need it,” Bucky comments, and Shuri breaks out a smile.

The rest of the day was Shuri teaching Bucky how to take care of goats and handle a small farm. When they should be fed with the goat meal, how to clean the through, when to take out old hay and add in fresh ones. It was a schedule that took Bucky some time to memorize, but was easily manageable. During the whole day, some of the village people came to him as well. He met a lot of people that way, even with some language barriers. They gave him advices and tips on running the farm, which he thanked them for. Surprisingly, the soldier picked up on goat caring pretty quickly, and by the end of it the five goats have become accustomed to him.

“I’ll visit again tomorrow, to check on how you’re doing,” said Shuri at the end of the day, before they parted. “Can you work your kimoyo beads just fine?”

Bucky looked down at the high tech bracelet on his wrist. Shuri had taught him the simple mechanics, like how to make calls and such. “I think I got the hang of it.”

“Don’t hesitate to make a call if something happens, okay?”

Bucky made an affirmative noise, and Shuri patted him on the shoulder before turning around and heading to the ship. As it disappeared to the distance, Bucky turned around to his goat pen. In it stood around five goats, five goats that were now his to keep. _His_ goats. He has goats now. Heh.

Bucky tapped his chin in thought, eyes scanning over the farm animals. “Yeah, you all are gonna need names.”

There was a light brown one, somewhat chubby and bigger than the others. “I’ll name you Dum Dum.”

A darker brown one. “You’re Jones.”

A gray skinny one. “Hm…Monty.”

A mixed one with brown, black, and white. “You’ll be Jim. And…”

Bucky’s head swished around. “Where’s the last-” Suddenly he was pushed from behind and fell face first to the dirt. A mischievous “baa” came from behind him. Bucky sat up and glared at the black goat accusingly. “Yeah, you’re definitely Frenchie.”

He stood up and brushed his clothes. Frenchie gave him another “baa” and walked away to the goat hut. Bucky shook his head. It was getting dark, and Bucky could already feel nasty bugs flying around and pricking his skin.

He leaned with his one hand to the fence of the goat pen, overlooking the golden field. The evening sky gave the view a beautiful hue of blue, between darkness and light. He could hear the sounds of insects and frogs croaking. Little snaps of twigs as they swayed in the breeze, and the sound of the village’s chickens and cows and other farm animals.

“I guess this is my life now,” Bucky murmured. The sounds of the animals behind him were the only reply. He smiled a little.

“I can get used to this.”

He bid the goats one final goodbye before heading back to his hut for the night.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next morning, Bucky was pouring the goat’s food to its through, just like he was instructed to do the day before. The five of them all huddled around the through, greedily munching on the mix of gain and scrap.

“Hey, one at a time you guys, jeez,” he said.

It was then that he saw Shuri approaching him from across the field, with a hairdo and an outfit just as fabulous as yesterday. He put aside the sack of goat food and let them to feed.

“Good morning, Bucky,” she said walking up to him, and Bucky cast her a greeting smile. “Any problems so far?”

The soldier shook his head. “No, I think I know what I’m doing,” he replied. There was a clank sound, and the two looked towards the pen where two of the goats had just clashed their horns together, fighting to get the most food.

“Hey, Frenchie! Stop picking fights with Monty!” Bucky called out.

Shuri snickered. “Well never mind that, you certainly have this under control.”

Bucky was about to open his mouth when they both heard whispers from the bushes next to them. The two saw the leaves rustle, and small voices hovering out of them.

“We know you’re there,” Shuri called out, a hint of teasing in her tone.

Bucky raised a brow when three little figures emerged from the shrubberies. They were the kids from yesterday, huddled next to each other and approaching shyly. The girl had a toy spear in her hands.

“Hello,” Shuri greeted warmly. “What are you three doing here?”

The three were silent for a moment, their eyes shifting. One of the boys nudged the girl, and she extended the spear to Bucky, who eyed it confusedly. She spoke up in accented English. “Can you teach me fighting moves?”

Shuri bent down to the kids, and so did Bucky. “Is that so? Well, how about you introduce yourself to Sergeant Barnes first?”

The three kids exchanged some words in Xhosa that Bucky didn’t understand. The girl stepped forward, a little braver now. “My name is N’Yami. Nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky smiled down at her. “Nice to meet you too, N’Yami. You can call me Bucky. Now, why would you want me to teach you fighting moves?”

Instantly the girl lit up, and she proudly raised her spear (which is really more of a really long stick with a rock tied to the end of it). “Because I want to be a Dora Milaje when I grow up!” she exclaimed. Then, in a less enthusiastic tone, “But nobody in this village is a warrior, we are mostly farmers. So nobody can teach me how to fight.”

“I see,” Bucky nodded thoughtfully. “Are you sure? To be a warrior you need to be patient and obedient in learning the moves.”

“I am patient and obedient!” said N’Yami. “Here, I have even practiced basic moves!” She presumed to do simple martial art moves with the spear. And, for an eight year old, Bucky’s impressed at how she already got the technique. He smiled at the girl.

“That was great, N’Yami! I can already see you being a great warrior soon. I suppose I can teach you some basic self-defense moves.”

The girl beamed up at him, and Shuri looked on proudly. But Bucky noticed the other two boys, still beside each other behind N’Yami. He motioned a little to them, offering them to join. The two stepped forward shyly.

“Hi,” Bucky said to the two of them. “And what are your names?”

“My name is Azari,” said one of them, the taller one. “I’m A’di,” said the shorter one.

“Nice to meet you two. So, would you two want to be warriors as well?”

A’di shook his head. “No, Ingcuka Emhlophe. I’m going to be the leader of the village when I’m older.”

Shuri slung her arms around the boy, smiling down at him. “A’di here is the son of the chief, he will be taking his father’s place soon.” A’di grinned.

“That’s great,” Bucky praised. “And you, Azari?”

“I want to be a doctor at the royal palace, so I can help people who are hurt,” he said proudly.  
Bucky ruffled his hair, and Azari giggled.

“I can already see all of you as great leaders, warriors, and healers.”

“Ingcuka Emhlophe! Ingcuka Emhlophe! Can you teach me moves now?” N’Yami jumped up and down, tugging at Bucky’s drapes.

“Alright, N’Yami, let’s teach you a few things.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Later, Shuri received a contact from Okoye.

“How is he faring?” asked the general. “Any complains? Hindrances?”

Shuri looked to where Bucky was instructing N’Yami on a blocking technique, and the little girl following obediently as Azari and A’di watched on. The goats in the pen eagerly munched on their food.

“He’s doing just fine, Okoye.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The next day, Steve visited.

Bucky had just returned from his morning feed to the goats, and he saw the man next to Shuri, waiting for him. The moment he saw him, he all but dropped his bucket and ran to Steve. And Steve held him, so tight.

Bucky pulled away just a little, and he gazed deeply into Steve’s eyes, taking in his appearance inch by inch. His eyes, his hair, and his lips.

“You grew a beard.”

Steve laughed out loud, and continued the hug. “I’m glad to see you, Buck.”

“You too, Steve.”

“Sorry I couldn’t arrive sooner. I took the first flight to Wakanda as soon as I got word from T’challa that you finally got out of cryo.”

“That was just two days ago, Steve. I’m more impressed that you got here so fast.”

“Well, couldn’t wait to see you again, anyways.”

They were still hugging.

“Uhm, excuse me?”

The two parted to see Shuri beside them, watching with an amused face. “As much as I hate to interrupt this _very heterosexual moment_ , Captain Rogers would like to share some very important things for you, Bucky. Right?” She glanced towards Steve.

“Oh! Right. Right, uh.”

Bucky only chuckled and took him to the front of his hut, where they sat at logs surrounding a campfire. Shuri smirked at them and left them to their business. Steve brought out the black plastic bag that he had been carrying and gave it to Bucky, who opened it in his lap.

“Okay, first of all,” Steve gestured to the plastic bag, “That.”

Bucky took a fruit from the bag. “Plums.”

“Plums.”

“That’s sweet of you, Steve,” Bucky said, both sarcastically and sincerely.

Steve shrugged. “Thought you’d like ‘em. I got them on the way here. Anyways, here’s the important stuff I wanted to show you.” The captain pulled his suitcase unto his lap and opened it. Inside was a stack of documents. From newspapers, to important looking files. Steve skimmed through them.

“A lot has happened in the six months you were in cyrostasis. Mostly controversies revolving the Avengers. I brought you the relevant stuff so you can catch up on what’s currently going on.”

For hours, they sat like that. Steve went through the events that happened after the so-called ‘Civil War’, and Bucky read the newspapers. They talked and talked about what happened, and what might happen in the future. It changed course, however, when Bucky quietly asked if Steve brought his sketchbook. To which Steve replied with yes, he did bring his sketchbook. Bucky then asked if Steve has drawn more sketches of him, since that’s what Steve usually does whenever he misses Bucky. To which Steve replied with a furious blush and a bashful _no…maybe…okay yes_.

It was when the sun was about to set that Steve became aware of time again and glanced at his watch, frowning. Bucky looked at him with concern. “Something wrong?”

“Not really. It’s just that, I was planning to return to my safe house by three and, um…”

Bucky pursed his lips. “You can stay for the night if you’d like.”

“Really?”

“I’m sure Shuri and the others wouldn’t mind. I can lend you some clothes, too.”

Steve patted him on the shoulders. “Thanks, Buck.”

 

 

Steve ended up staying through the weekend. Bucky had informed Shuri, and the latter didn’t mind, just as he predicted.

“We can install a door on your hut if you two wanna…Y’know…”

“Shuri!”

Steve flushed bright red.

They caught up with a lot of things - Bucky introduced his goats and Steve burst out laughing hearing the names. He also met the village kids, and they too went along great. Bucky only had one bed on his hut. So rationally, they slept together. It brought the two of them, Bucky especially, to the nights they spent back in Brooklyn. The two of them used snuggled close to each other, trying to battle the winter cold on top of a deflated mattress with a rag for a blanket. Only this time…

“Remember when _you_ used to be the little spoon?”

“Shut it, Buck.”

That Monday morning Steve packed his things to return to America. They shared one more hug of unreasonably long duration before Steve stepped in the ship. Bucky waved one last time and watched as the ship hovered up and sped away. Steve had promised to visit as much as he could, and Bucky predicted it to be once every few weeks on average. Steve’s currently a national criminal on the loose after all, but still; “I’ll be right here waiting for you, Steve.”

Bucky returned to his goat farm afterwards, he can already hear them screaming for breakfast.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
“Are you sure you don’t need a prosthetic?” Shuri asked one day, while munching on a mango.

The two were sitting on a low branch of the fruit tree near Bucky’s hut. Their legs swayed just above the ground. N’Yami, Azari, and A’di were higher up, hunting for ripe mangoes.

“Nah, I’m doing just fine,” Bucky replied.

He really was. When he first woke up and saw the herd of goats he had to take care of, he thought he’d have a hard time doing everything with only one hand. But turns out he got used to it fast. There were some hindrances, yes. For example he had learned to use his tights when opening jars, and carrying one thing at a time. But he manages.

The only thing he definitely can’t do is tie and braid his hair, but that’s something the kids usually does for him, anyways.

“No phantom pain?”

He shook his head.

“That’s good news,” Shuri said. “We had a suspicion that HYDRA conditioned your mind to be invulnerable of any phantom limb symptoms. Guess they did.”

Bucky nodded. “Did they make any other changes to my mind?”

“Well, none that we couldn’t remove. Took some time, but otherwise your mind is squeaky clean.”

Suddenly there was a ruffle of twigs and leaves. N’Yami dropped to the ground from the tree’s main bark, followed by A’di and Azari. Azari had a hand woven bag filled to the top with mangoes.

“Ingcuka Emhlophe, can we have these mangoes?” A’di asked excitedly, raising the bag and shaking it a little. The fruits inside were a nice shade of ripe and carried out a tasty sweet scent.

Bucky gave them a sweet smile. “Sure, go ahead.”

The kids cheered, and they ran off back to the village while shouting back things along the line of “thank you, Ingcuka Emhlophe!” That left the two of them alone.

“Ingcuka Emhlophe,” Bucky stated thoughtfully. “What does that mean?”

Shuri took a bite of her mango. “It means White Wolf. The kids gave you that nick name when you first came here.”

“White Wolf,” he tried it thoughtfully. “I like it.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Days in Wakanda felt slow and relaxing. Bucky quickly got into rhythm of his farm chores, but his current life was never mundane – not with Shuri and the children and Steve and a band of goats.

But that doesn't mean his past had left him.

It was the middle when Bucky jolted up screaming. He was drenched in sweat, his bangs sticking to his forehead. His entire face felt wet, and he wiped away his tears, eyes darting around his hut. His heart pounded in his chest, and he choked on a sob.

He saw them again. The innocent families he killed and the terrified souls he had at gunpoint. The blood. There was so much of them. He could remember their names, their faces, their last words. He could remember all of them. How many deaths were on his hand.

He has flashbacks of them, late in the night and in between the peaceful days where he thought that perhaps things are okay. When he thought he’d finally leave the ghost of him behind. But they just keep coming back.

A man who died at gunpoint because he refused to spill the secrets of his organization.

A mother who was blocking his way to her house where his current mission was hiding in.

A girl who saw just a little too much on what he did on an alley way-

Oh god he killed a _child_.

Bucky curled in on himself, hand grabbing at his bed sheets. He cried hard, knowing he’d have his eyes swollen red the next day. His hut felt cold, almost foreign, like it wasn’t where he had been living in the past few months.

The night was silent. And Bucky felt so _so_ alone.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“You don’t happen to have any memory erasing tech, do you?”

Shuri’s head whipped towards him, wide eyed. “What?”

Bucky tried to shrug nonchalantly. He chucked some more hay to the goat house. “Memory erasing.”

Shuri, from where she was sitting on the wagon, closed the astral projections from her kimoyo bracelet. “No, we don’t. It's- it's against our morals,” she said cautiously.

Bucky nodded wordlessly, putting away his pitchfork at the back of the stable. Frenchie immediately dove into the pile of fresh hay, making bits of it fly away.

“Why are you asking this?” she asked.

“No reason.”

Shuri stared at him. He stared back, then sighed. “It's just…you may have erased the HYDRA programming, but not the memories of the Winter Soldier. I have sleeping troubles some nights.”

The Princess nodded, slowly. She hopped off the wagon and activated her kimoyo bracelet, presumably to get a ride back to the palace.

“I’ll see what I can do. You good for the day, White Wolf?”

“Chores are all done. See you later, Shuri.”

“See you later.”

 

 

“…So what about this one?” asked Ayo when they were at the lab.

Shuri bent down and looked at the asset inch by inch, analyzing and contemplating. “I like this one. Do you think they'll get along?”

“Well I’m no expert, your highness. But if you ask me, I say it fits.”

Shuri grinned.

“Perfect.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
“White Wolf!”

Bucky looked up from where he was arranging the flowers in front of his hut to see Shuri walking up to him. But what grabbed his attention was the thing beside her; a young dog, trotting along.

“Hey.”

“Hey. How’s your front yard decorating going?” She gestured to the flower arrangement Bucky was currently working on.

“Good. I was planning to plant some lilies but Dum Dum keeps eating them.”

Shuri giggled. “Here, I want you to meet someone.” She side stepped and revealed a very excited doggo. For a second Bucky thought it was a border collie – the dog had the folded ears and wavy short hair, but with a brown and white mixed coat. Its curly tail wagged at Bucky. “Ruff!”

“She’s an Aidi dog. Well trained, playful, and good for herding. I think you two are gonna get along great.” The term ‘therapy dog’ goes unsaid between the two of them, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He grinned as he knelt down to the jumping puppy and began petting its scruff.

“Does she have a name?”

“Not yet, no. You should give her one.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. The puppy’s tail wagged and wagged. She licked Bucky’s cheek, and he giggled.

“You’re a very sweet girl. How about Dolly?”

“Ruff!”

“You like that? Dolly?”

“Ruff! Ruff!”

“Dolly it is then.” A genuine smile that reached his eyes came to Bucky’s lips, and Dolly licked him again.

“That’s a nice name,” Shuri said as she crouched down with him and ran her hand down Dolly’s back. She chuckled as Dolly licked her hand.

But suddenly Bucky’s face fell. “Wait, so she’s fully mine now?”

“Yep.”

“But-”

“Oh you don’t need to worry about the dog food or any other doggy essentials. We’ll send you a package of dog food tomorrow, and anytime you run out. She’s an easy care dog, no need for any complicated routines. You two will be fine.”

Bucky was silent for a moment, Dolly was still wiggling under him. Shuri continued.

“You’ll take good care of her, Bucky, I’m sure of it. I’ve seen you take care of the goats, Dolly will be just fine with you.”

“Really?” Bucky side eyed her.

“120% definitely.” Shuri squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “Besides, she knows quite a lot of tricks, you know. Try it.”

“Oh, okay. Uhm…Dolly, sit!”

To his surprise, the dog obliged perfectly. Her rump instantly fell to the ground as if some kind of magnet had been activated. Her tongue hung out her snout, smiling up at him. But she stayed still.

“Neat,” Bucky mumbled. “Down!”

Dolly fully laid down now.

“Roll over!”

She did a barrel roll.

“Bark!”

“Ruff!”

“ _Really_ neat,” Bucky mused. “Come here, Dolly.”

The puppy happily bounded towards him, and he scratched her behind the ears. “Good girl.”

Dolly barked again, and Bucky smiled. “I have a dog now,” he murmured. “Oh. Wow. I have a dog now. This is awesome.”

“See? Great buddies all ready,” Shuri added happily. She stood up and brushed her skirt. “Well I’ll leave you two to it. See ya later, Bucky.”

“Shuri.”

“Yeah?”

“…Thanks.”

“Anytime, White Wolf.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Dolly never left his side. Like, ever. She’s always pressed to or between his legs.

She followed him everywhere. In his hut where he was chopping up food, around the village, and all the way out the field and at the goat pen.

“Dolly, move out of the way please, I don’t want to squish you with goat meal.”

“Ruff ruff!”

Bucky rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Alright, alright, move over.”

Once he poured the goat food to the through, the goats immediately scattered to it. He stepped back with his hand on his thigh and counted them, like he usually does.

“Okay, let's see; Jim, Monty, Frenchie, Dum Dum...hey, where's Jones?”

There were a clatter of sounds coming from behind him, and he spun around. There he saw Dolly and Jones, playing some kind of game of who can pounce each other first. Dolly excitedly pranced around Jones, who kept shoveling his hooves to the dirt, challenging her.

“Hey, quit it both of you!” Bucky yelled. “Dolly, come here!”

The two parted, Dolly sprinting towards Bucky and Jones joining the others on their lunch. Bucky shook his head.

 

 

In one afternoon, days later, Bucky was lounging around in front of his hut. He was cooking some fish to eat for dinner above the campfire, enjoying the sunset noises. And then suddenly he heard yelling coming from the village area.

He turned his head just in time to see a very distressed chicken flailing away with its feathers thrown around and none other than Dolly chasing behind it. Some more yelling could be heard, and with Bucky’s limited Xhosa abilities, he was only able to catch the words ‘stop’ and ‘chicken’, which is more than enough for him.

“Dammit, Dolly,” he grumbled before picking himself up and began chasing after the two.

The chicken (and Dolly) ran passed a few more huts, surprising the people along its path and nearly knocking over a woman carrying a laundry basket. Bucky tripped on a rock and nearly fell face first, but caught his balance just in time.

“’Scuse me, ‘scuse me, sorry ma’am.” Man, he seriously needs to work on his balance. Sprinting on full speed with additional weight on his right side and none on his left side can be a little disorienting.

Finally the chicken made a turn and left the village area, and now the three of them were running across the golden field. The sky was vibrant yellow above them and Bucky felt the grass brushing against his sides as he sped through them. In front of him he heard Dolly barking in excitement.

The chicken reached the goat pen and slipped under the fences, earning confused stares from the previously napping goats. Bucky was catching up. He saw the fence and leaped a good three feet in the air. The chicken was right under him. He dropped down, and caught the chicken right between his arm and his chest.

For a second the chicken flapped its wings frantically, but finally calmed down, letting out a very tired sounding chirp.

“Man you are fast,” Bucky sighed from where they were still on the ground.

“Baa,” commented one of his watching goats.

“Hey, don’t judge my life choices, Jim.”

“Baa.”

Dolly caught up with them, yipping and hopping around like a child who just one a game of tag. Bucky rolled his eyes and sat up, chicken held close to him.

“C’mon, we need return this guy.”

 

 

The chicken farmers, a very old couple, had smiled gratefully when Bucky returned the lost bird. He apologized to the two, only to have the nice couple invite him for dinner. He politely declined, and started to head back to his hut with Dolly.

Except that he forgot about the fish.

“Oh, right.” Bucky stared at the pan above the fire and the chopped up fish on it. Or at least, it somewhat resembled chopped up fish. It’s more of crispy looking brown stuff, charcoal black around the edges.

Bucky sighed but nevertheless scraped it off and put it on a plate. He already seasoned it and everything. Bucky puckered up his lips.

“Okay y’know what? Might as well.”

And with that he took off a bit of it, and put it in his mouth. He chewed. And chewed. Dolly stared at him intensely.

Bucky gulped. “That actually wasn’t so bad. That tasted good, even.”

Dolly’s smile returned, and she jumped up with a bark.

“This is both your fault and your gift, Dolly,” Bucky chuckled as he put a portion of the fish on her bowl. Dolly happily dug in.

“You’re a real trouble maker, you know that? Always looking for a fight and jumping headfirst into a mess,” Bucky stated, more to himself than to his dog. “That’s okay, though. It reminds me of a special someone.”

By then night already fell, and it wasn’t long until he crawled into bed and fall into the realm of sleep.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_"Bucky!"_

 

_The sound of metal bending, screeching, grating, screaming at his ears. He's hanging in the open now. His knuckles sting. He's bleeding. The cold wind pierced through his skin and froze his blood. He's petrified._

 

_"Hang on!"_

 

_He tries to reach out. Metal screaming, train engines roaring._

 

_"Grab my hand!"_

 

_Reaching. Reaching. Can't-_

 

 _The handle bent._ Snap _._

 

_"NO!"_

 

_He's falling._

 

_"BUCKY!"_

 

_He's falling. He's falling. He's screaming._

 

_The cold wind deafens his ears and the train spirals out his vision as he spins and spins in the air and he keeps pummeling down._

 

_This is the end. This is his end. He's going to die. He's going to die._

 

_"Steve!"_

 

_He yells out his name._

 

_"Steve!"_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
"Steve!"

Bucky jolted up on his bed, covered in sweat and heart beating into his head. He panted, chest heaving.

His eyes readjusted to the dark, and he found himself in his hut. The moonlight washed over the wooden flooring from the window, and from there he could see the clear night sky of Wakanda. Cricket noises and frog croaks filled the air. Somewhere across the field one of his goats 'baa'-ed.

Nightmares again. At times that it didn’t feature the crimes of the Winter Soldier, it instead vividly shows the years of being tortured by HYDRA; strapped into the memory cleansing machine and having his mind tear from inside. Or the days amidst the chaos of gunfire and grenades in the battlefields. Or his death.

He’s afraid sometimes. He fears he’d never be able to leave the gunpowder, the screaming, and the war, not even in the middle of Wakanda’s safe haven. What if Bucky Barnes did die on that train, and all that is left is the empty shell of the Winter Soldier.

He breathed, and dragged his hand down his drenched face. He swiped away the hair sticking to his forehead. Tears were still flowing down his cheeks, and he held back a sob.

“Ruff!”

He looked to the side of his bed and found Dolly there, her front paws on the bed and looking up to him with her tail wagging. Bucky breathed in some more, and tried to smile. It was weak, forced, and tired. Probably barely a smile at all.

“Hey girl.”

“Ruff!” Then, Dolly whined and dropped her head beneath her paws, looking up to Bucky pleadingly. The man raised his hand and wiped his eyes.

“Heh, okay. But just tonight, yeah?”

Dolly instantly jumped up the bed with him, and Bucky ran his hand along her coat. His heart still pounded in his chest. He closed his eyes.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. There._

He opened his eyes to the sight of Dolly, staring at him with those big brown eyes. She had stopped barking, although her tail was still swishing. The dog gently licked his nose, just a tiny bit. She bumped her head to Bucky’s chest.

“Okay, okay, let’s sleep.” Bucky’s smile grew a little more, and he laid back down on his mattress. His throat hurt – he must’ve been screaming. Dolly’s little paws circled around his chest for a little, before settling on a comfy position and dropping down. This made Bucky let out one small laugh, the panic from before quickly fading away.

He’s certain a week or so after this he’d have another nightmare – another terror filled night showcasing his past. A troubled mind don’t just heal because of one good sleep, after all. At the back of his mind, he still feels as if he’s in a constant state of danger. As if his back is too light and too vulnerable without the weight of his sniper rifle. Those are the things he’s afraid he’d never live past.

But then his eyes wandered to the window, and saw the starry night sky. He focused his hearing to the noises of the crickets, and the croaking of frogs. He felt Dolly curled up on top of his chest, her breathing slow and undoubtedly already falling asleep. He reminded himself that he’s safe here, that he’s no longer in the line of fire. This small little village he resides in felt almost peaceful.

Not _fully_ peaceful, not yet. But he’s working on it.

His hand absentmindedly stroked Dolly and he closed his eyes. She was a comforting weight on his chest, and tiredness was creeping back to him fast.

“Dolly, I know I said you can be a real trouble maker sometimes. But I’m glad I have you here.”

Sleep came back easier than expected, and this time there were no nightmares.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

At mid-day Bucky was sitting under the shades of the tree in his goat pen, back leaned on its trunk. A’di and Azari were chatting on a branch of the tree, while N’Yami was further off, practicing her skills on a handmade wooden scarecrow Bucky had built.

He was munching on some bread while Jim (always the calmest among the other goats) napped soundly besides him. It was then that he saw two figures approaching and crossing the field. One he saw as Shuri, walking towards him with another woman. When the two were close enough, Bucky recognized that the other woman was the spy from the River Tribe, Nakia. He had heard N’Yami gushing and looking up to her plenty of times.

He came face to face with them, and he offered a hand to her.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Nakia.”

“Just Nakia is fine,” The spy said warmly. Then she reached into the suitcase she was carrying and pulled out a thick package wrapped in brown paper, tied with thin rope. Written on it are the words _for the Smithsonian Grandpa ;)_.

“A present, from Agent Romanoff,” she supplied.

Bucky sat down and placed the package on his lap to open it. It was books, ranging from fiction novels to history books. The book on top of the pile was a book about modern technology. Bucky opened it and skimmed through the pages.

“She said you’d like to have some good reads. She also sent her regards to your goats,” Nakia continued.

Bucky closed the book and the package. He looked up to Nakia. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

 

 

A minute later Bucky was already engrossed on a novel Natasha had picked for him, and Nakia pulled Shuri aside.

“So how is he?”

“Great. _Really_ great. I’m actually surprised on how well this is going.”

The two glanced at Bucky, still sitting under the tree. Azari and A’di had stopped chatting, both now fixated on Bucky’s books and its “pretty pictures”. In the background, a goat (Dum Dum) approached N’Yami, and she petted him on the head.

“I still can’t believe you gave him _goats_ of all things.”

Shuri shrugged. “Well, it’s working.”

“True. He _does_ look like he belongs here.”

The two saw Bucky, on how he sat under the tree with a book on his lap and two curious kids behind him. On how his farm was now thriving, with five very healthy and happy goats. Or just on how he seemed to smile a lot more these days.

“Who knows,” said Shuri. “Maybe he does.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
Some days later Steve visited again.

“So how’s it like being on the run and hide?” Bucky jokingly asked as they sat on a log overlooking the small lake. It was the afternoon, with a warm breeze brushing through the trees and the sound of the village’s cows in the distance. It was pretty, and Bucky wished it could last forever.

“Better than you'd think, actually. It's nice not having to be Captain America for a while,” Steve said, readjusting his grip on his fishing rod. “It's just...”

“You have to constantly wear sunglasses and caps? I mean, seriously Steve, they’re terrible disguises.”

“No, no. I just miss y-“

He was cut off by the barks of Dolly bounding up to them, tongue lolled out and tail wagging.

“Oh, who's this little girl?” Steve smiled and ruffled Dolly’s head.

“Her name's Dolly,” Bucky replied, eyes still on his bait far out on the lake. “She is the biggest trouble maker you will ever meet.”

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, and her puppy eyes are dangerous. Don't look directly at them.”

Steve began laughing as Dolly’s front paws climbed unto his lap and began licking his face. The dog now jumped up fully to his lap and laid down contently.

“She likes you,” Bucky commented. Suddenly his fishing rod began to twitch, and the tug of war began. Bucky reeled and reeled, quite impressively considering he's only using his right hand and the handle between his hips. With a final tug, a medium sized fish splashed out the water and fell flopping on land. Bucky took out the hook and placed the fish on his bucket, which was filled with even more medium sized fish, contradicting Steve's bucket that only contained a single, tiny fish.

“How are you so good at this,” Steve baffled.

Bucky shrugged with one shoulder. “I had a lot of time to prac-” suddenly he fell face first to his bucket. Right behind him is a brown goat. Steve giggled.

Bucky pulled his face out the bucket. “Frenchie! I told you not to head butt people!”

“Baa,” said Frenchie.

“How dare you ‘baa’ at me with _that_ tone,” he accused. “Just because I’m letting you guys out of the pen right now doesn’t mean you get special privileges.” Steve fell to the ground laughing. Bucky rolled his eyes.

Eventually Dolly chased Frenchie back to the the field where the other goats were munching on grass. The two of them just sat there, enjoying the Wakandan sunset upon the small lake in front of Bucky’s hut. Cicadas around them began to play. The swallows above flew to their homes. dragonflies hovered above the water, making rings of water trail behind it.

“You’re happy here, Buck,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am.”

Steve’s phone rang, the ringtone ruining the pristine silence. The man fished it out of his pocket and frowned at it.

“You gotta go?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, and they both stood up. “I’ll be visiting again as soon as I can, so make sure you’re still here when I come back again, okay?”

Bucky grinned. “I won’t disappear anytime soon, Steve.”

Steve nodded his head, and pulled Bucky into a giant hug. Bucky wrapped his arm around him tightly, and buried his head on those broad shoulders.

“I’m glad you’re healing, Bucky.”

“Me too, Steve. Me too.”

Steve’s smile was warm when they finally parted ways. He was just about to spin around and leave when Bucky said, “Oh and Steve?”

Steve turned. “Yeah?”

“I missed you too, you big idiot. Say hi to Sam for me.”

This made Steve laugh genuinely, and his cheeks tinted red. He leaned closer one last time, and pressed a kiss on Bucky’s cheek, to which the latter smirked.

“Don’t be gone for too long.”

“I won’t Buck, I promise.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
A year later, on one eventful day, a day where suddenly the earth and all of the universe’s fate fell to the hands of a threat much bigger than the rest of them, T’Challa came to his goat pen.

He presented Bucky with a suitcase, and inside it is a new arm, made of nothing other than vibranium and pure strength.

Bucky’s only response was looking up and asking; “where’s the fight?”

 

 

On that day, Dolly sat in front of the hut, tail wagging and waiting for her friend to come home so they can play another round of fetch on the field. The goats ‘baa’-ed in their pen. They, too, waited for fresh hay to be shoveled inside their stable and have books read to them under the shade of the tree. They waited as the sun came to a set and the crickets began playing songs and the birds went flying back to their homes.

 

  
But he never came back.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Because honestly Bucky only wanted peace and plums.
> 
> The village children's names here are only easter eggs, and doesn't have any correlation to their comic characters.


End file.
